Empty Skies

Empty Skies

Every morning, after breakfast, Molly Weasley sits down at the large kitchen table in The Burrow and writes to her children.

It is part of her daily routine, something she does after she has tidied away the breakfast things, and made sure that the rest of the house is in good order. Neither of these tasks takes as long as it used to do. Sometimes she fondly remembers breakfasts that drove her almost to distraction at times. The twins would play some kind of practical joke on Percy that would cause him to start shouting. While she calmed him, Ron would probably drop something and break it, and all this when Ginny was young enough to still make impossible amounts of mess while eating. All the while, Arthur and the older children, if they were at home, would hover in and out of the chaos, raining toast crumbs everywhere.

These days, the job is hardly worth mentioning; it takes so little time that it barely makes a mark in the day. Sometimes, it's only habit that keeps her using magic to do it. Somehow, it's very different from the way things were when the children were simply away at school. So, since the children no longer provide her with ways to fill her time, she fills it with writing letters to them.

Of course, not all the letters are sent. There are not enough owls in the house, for a start, and she rarely visits a Post Office. But she likes to write them anyway; it gives her a connection.

She always writes first to Bill, as the eldest. He still works for Gringotts and she still sees him when she visits Diagon Alley, although increasingly these meetings have become rushed as he has more than ever to do. She always finds time to remind him again, however, that he should get himself a haircut and get rid of that nasty earring. She is sure that they will terrify his children, who will undoubtedly appear soon now that he is married, and tells him so.

In her letters to Bill, she makes sure to be clear about how well she is coping living alone, and how much she loves the Burrow. He invites her often to come and live with them, and part of her would love to, but the other part clings desperately to her home where she has been so happy. She isn't even that old in wizard terms.

Bill reads the letters, frowns a little, and tries to think of ways to subtly persuade her to be less stubborn.

Cheerful letter to Bill completed, she turns her attention to Charlie's letter. In the last letter she received from him, there were hints that all was not well in Eastern Europe, rumours of the rise of a new Dark force. She tries to give him comforting news about life at home: how the gnomes are running riot in the garden, that the raspberries are growing well, and how the weather is beautiful for the time of year.

In her heart of hearts she knows that Charlie's letters will always go unanswered, but she likes her second son to know that she still thinks about him.

Charlie's letters are never sent, and are often too blotted with tears which she doesn't remember shedding to be read in any case.

Charlie's letter completed, and her tears dried away, she begins a letter for Percy. At first these were awkward and difficult to write, but gradually the formality has faded away, as his split with the family was first forgiven and then forgotten, on Molly's part at least. Sometimes at increasingly rare family gatherings, she can feel a festering, uncomfortable air, as the others grudge him the pain he caused and he struggles to avoid the inevitable fact that he was wrong.

Percy is doing well for himself now. He still works for the Ministry of Magic, still dealing with International Relations. He tells her in his brief notes that there is nothing to worry about in Eastern Europe, he has spoken to representatives there and the severity of the situation has been much exaggerated; there will be no new reign of terror. And he's sorry that he can't visit this weekend, but he really must finish this report on new controls on magical immigration, or standardising curses. Molly is glad that he enjoys his work so much; it reminds her of Arthur.

This always makes her think that she really should get around to sorting out some of those strange Muggle bits and pieces scattered around the house. Perhaps Harry knows what they are for.

Percy always means to dutifully visit his mother, but somehow there is always something much more pressing which has to be done, and so he settles for short notes hurried off last thing before he leaves work in the evening.

After lunch, and another all too brief interlude of washing up, Molly sits down to finish her letters. Although she feels guilty about it, she sends a copy of the same letter to both Fred and George. She does try to make them different, but somehow it never quite works. After all, they look alike, work together and seem rarely to be separated. Their replies are also about the least frequent. They always were happier being active.

They are, however, like Percy, doing well. Molly remembers well how she felt when she discovered that they had walked out of Hogwarts, leaving, of all things, a swamp behind them. Surely she had brought them up better than that? Still, now she has to admit that they have been successful at what they wanted to do. Very successful in fact, and very busy. Thinking about it, she isn't sure when she actually last saw them. She ends their letter with an open invitation to come for dinner, since she is sure that they probably don't eat properly most of the time.

The letters to the twins are filed by their secretary in a pile of incoming mail, where they seem to get lost amongst a mass of order forms, bills and other paraphernalia. When they finally emerge a week or so later, each twin tends to assume that the other has already written a reply.

After the twins, it is Ron's turn. This is another hard letter to write, since Ron has not enjoyed the same success as some of his brothers and has not settled down to anything. He has tried a variety of things, but never seems to quite find what he is looking for. Molly wishes she could tell him that she will be perfectly happy with him whatever he does, but he continues in his quest for something to be the best at. She blames his school friend, Hermione from this: her high marks probably meant that he felt stupid and she is sure that she has read in Witch Weekly that the teenage years are very important in moulding character.

The letters she writes to Ron are full of small bits of praise, telling him that she wishes he were there, since he was always the best at degnoming the garden, or reaching things down off the high shelves. The she reminds him of all the achievements in his life, from playing nicely with Ginny up until passing his N.E.W.Ts. She also encloses a selection of job advertisements from the latest issue of the Daily Prophet, pointing out that he is perfectly suited for all of them. She thinks he is doing something with broomsticks at the moment, but surely that must be awfully dull, and well below his talents. After all, he always seemed to do as well as Harry in school, and look where Harry is now.

The letters simply make Ron feel that he should try harder, since after all, happening to be tall is hardly an achievement, and that he is somehow a failure for enjoying his work with broomsticks.

Having reminded Ron that he is good at lots of things, she begins to write a letter to Ginny. Even though she is her only daughter, sometimes she finds it hard to know what to say to her. She isn't even especially sure that she approves of Ginny's lifestyle. At her age, Molly was married and expecting her first child, not living alone and expressing an interest in going to Eastern Europe to see if she can do anything about the situation there. Molly does not dare to mention this, since it will probably only encourage her to do it. She always was slightly contrary, as if she didn't stand out enough from her brothers not being a boy.

Instead in her letters to Ginny, she talks a lot about Harry and what he has been doing, she thinks it would be wonderful if those two settled down together, goodness knows they are both old enough now, and they certainly seem to be good friends. She also sends Ginny a range of recipes and domestic spells that have stood her in good stead throughout the years. Even if Ginny insists on working for now, one day she will need to know these things, as every witch should do.

Ginny is frustrated by these letters since she is perfectly happy with her life. She does try to reply, but finds it hard to write something that she thinks her mother will approve of. After all, it isn't really her fault, Ginny thinks, that she is hopelessly old fashioned, and she is quite old enough to think for herself.

The final envelope sealed usually means that it is time to begin preparing dinner. She stacks the letters in a pile, then pulls out one at random to send, attaching it to the leg of Cleo, the owl which the children gave her as a present a couple of Christmases ago. The rest of the letters are filed carefully in a drawer.

Harry usually comes home just as she is putting on the potatoes to boil. He does not generally talk much about his work, but she knows him as well as her own children now, and can tell whether things have gone well or badly. Usually they talk about mundane things: the headline in today's Daily Prophet or the price of Floo powder, and she tells him brightly about the things she has done today: weeding the garden, sorting out some of the upstairs rooms. She does not mention the letters.

On this particular day, he is slightly late, and when he comes in, his face is pale and drawn. He looks almost scared, and this scares Molly, for if Harry is scared, there must be something to fear.

'Things in Europe have started,' he says, almost as soon as he comes through the door, as if it were everyday that someone's life is destroyed a second time..

Molly loses her concentration; her wand jerks and potatoes tumble across the floor, rolling into corners, out of her sight, like scattering children. Harry says nothing, only watches as she tries to gather them all up. Eventually she finds them all, but they are dirty and bruised.

The next morning, Molly lies awake as always in the grey dawn. Usually, she is listening for the rush of an owl's wings, and the tap of a beak against the window glass, rare noises that mean one of her children has replied to her letters.

Today, she is willing that these noises do not come, because she is desperately afraid of the news that they might bring with them.

A new struggle has begun, and for the first time in years, Molly Weasley forgets her loneliness and longs for empty skies.